


Breaking the Rules

by gestaltrose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Gen Fic, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gestaltrose/pseuds/gestaltrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor’s had a crap week but when he gets some mail from Gordon Walker mentioning Sam Winchester he hopes his luck is about to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking the Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Gift for lj community spn_giftxchnge in '08 for lj user maharet83 she asked for: _In prison, Gordon steams and decides that if Sam wants to play by the Law, then so can he. Gets in contact with Agent Henriksen, says he can help track down the Winchesters._

Special Agent Victor Henriksen was having a terrible day. As for yesterday- he had decided to avoid even thinking about yesterday. His phone rang twice and the display lit up, indicating that it was a call from somewhere else in his building.

“Henriksen,” he said after picking up the grimy handset.

“Yes sir, good afternoon. I was going through the mail as usual earlier.”

Victor waited for his assistant to continue, but there was nothing but dead air between them. “And?” He pressed, trying not to sound short, but he had very little patience for his assistant’s particular brand of stupidity.

“There was one from a prison. I was going to toss it like you told me to, but it mentions Sam Winchester.”

Maybe not so stupid after all, Victor mused, his interest piqued. “Bring it in here, I’ll take a look at it” Victor said.

Moments later he was reading over the letter, sent by a prisoner in the state penitentiary in Indiana. He took out a pen and started making notes on a separate piece of paper for his own records, and then wrote the prisoner’s name on a post-it note for his assistant. “Smith,” he called to his assistant in the other room. “I need you to check this guy out,” Victor said as he handed him the smaller note.

“Yes sir, I’ll get on it as soon as possible.” Henriksen looked at him, saying nothing. “I mean right now, sir.”

“Good,” Victor said, turning back to the formidable stack of paperwork on his desk. He had lost his hold on Dean Winchester several times now , but maybe- just maybe- his luck had changed. But if Gordon Walker, prisoner number 82212532A in Indiana, could lead him to Sam Winchester, Dean wouldn’t be far behind. He never was.

Four hours and two inches down in his paperwork stack later, he was on the open road. He didn’t bring anyone; he needed to redeem _himself,_ and himself alone. And do what he needed to do to get the desired results. Flashing his detective ID he was let into the prison

Twenty minutes later, he was seated in a room with Gordon Walker across the table from him.

“So. Mr. Walker. You wrote to me a particularly interesting letter about the Winchester brothers. Tell me about Dean Winchester,” Henriksen said.

“I want to make a deal,” Walker quickly replied.

“You haven’t said anything worth me giving you a deal over.”

“The Winchesters are friends with Bobby Singer and Ellen Harvelle. You can check them out. One or both of them will be in contact with them, the Winchesters use their hospitality whenever they’re passing through.” Walker said, sounding insufferably smug for someone handcuffed to a chair in an orange jumpsuit. Victor had the sudden urge to wipe the smugness off his face, to throw him to the floor and just walk out, but he would look into it. He already knew about Singer, but the name Harvelle was new to him.

“If it checks out,” Victor emphasized on the ‘if’, still doubtful, “what do you want?”

“Out,” Gordon Walker said. “I want out.”

“You were arrested for arson and,” Victor pulled out a piece of paper from Walker’s file and looked it over, “having several illegal weapons in your possession.”

“The Winchester’s were after me, I have a right to defend myself,” Walker said.

“A rifle with subsonic rounds? And a suppressor? Sounds like you were planning on assassinating someone. Twelve different bladed weapons all illegal length for a concealed item. A jar of blood. They still haven’t figured that one out.” Henriksen said as an aside, and then continued with his list. “Five pieces of religious paraphernalia. Salt. Three bows with steel tipped arrows. One crossbow, with a set of wooden stakes and also a small quantity of steel bolts.” Victor sat back in his uncomfortable plastic molded chair. “You want to let me in on what you were doing, exactly?”

Reaching into the manila envelope again, he pulled out a plain bound journal, battered around the edges. It was Walker’s; it had been hidden in the concealed floor in the trunk of his car. Walker’s eyes spotted it and recognition flashed briefly in his eyes, but otherwise he gave no reaction. “You know,” Victor said as he leafed through the book, fingers flicking easily through the worn parchment, “I think you’re just as dangerous as the Winchesters. It’s probably a good thing you’ve been locked up away from society.”

“Stories,” Walker said, dismissively, his voice calm. “Stories- just things to pass the time.”

Victor flicked the book with a dull thud and shut the clasp on it again, and slid it back into its envelope. “I’ll check out your leads. If they pan out and I am able to track down Harvelle, I might be back.”

“Might?” Walker glared at him, and Victor was suddenly quite happy that the prisoner was handcuffed to the bench.

Victor shrugged. “Or I might let it slip that you ratted some people out, and let them deal with you inside. You wouldn’t want that, now would you?” Victor knew exactly how snitches were dealt with in prison, considering he’d unfortunately had to save a few.

On the drive back to the dive motel he had picked up for the stay in Indiana, Victor considered Gordon Walker. He seemed to be insane, quite a lot more mentally unstable than what was originally considered in his criminal file. Henriksen was not a psychiatrist but Walker was a bit left of the middle to say the very least, the journal that was found just cementing it further. Calling back to headquarters briefly, he put Smith on checking out the Harvelle family and running another background check on Singer. Sometimes it was no use, as so many aliases had been used it was difficult to keep track of anyone.

Two days later, having spent the majority of his time poring over the Walker file and his journal, he was back at the prison.

Walker looked smug, yet again, and Victor still wished he could just punch the look off of his face. But as a detective he regularly fought back the urges to harm the scum of society.

“Singer and Harvelle check out as friends of Winchesters. But, they refused to talk to anyone.”

Walker laughed, and looked up at the ceiling. “The way you guys do things, that doesn’t surprise me. I could get them to talk.”

Henriksen smiled. “I thought you might say that.” He slid a piece of paper across the table to Walker.

“What’s this?”

“It’s your conditional release. You’ll be helping me until I get what I want, and you’ll be working alongside me until I determine you are no longer a threat to society,” Victor said giving Walker a look that said this was the best he was going to get. “You just need to sign it.”

Walker glared at him but held his hand out and Victor passed him a pen. Signing with a frown and a curse on his lips as the angle forced his wrist to dig into the edge of his handcuffs painfully, he shoved the paper and the pen back to Victor. Henriksen smiled at his small victory, nodding to the guards outside that he was ready to go.

He waited while they processed Walker and undid the police issue cuffs and chains. A good half an hour passed, neither of them speaking to the other, until a guard appeared with a small plastic tub. Pushing it across the table to Walker, he nodded at it. “Clothes. Get changed.”

Walker stripped and got dressed. Victor waited, when he was done he led Walker outside. Stopping within earshot of some prisoners who were loitering at the front of their holding cells, ready to catcall anyone that happened to walk by, Victor turned to Walker with a smile. “Thanks man, without your help. I would’ve never been able to capture them. Now you’re a free man.”

The panic on Gordon Walker’s face was almost worth the problem of having to put up with him in the first place. “What are you doing?” he hissed out between clenched teeth, not making eye contact with any of the accusatory glares from his former inmates.

“Just making sure you stay and take care of me, because if something happens to me, or my case doesn’t pan out the way I want it to, well. . .you come back here,” Victor grinned at Walker and patted him on the back in full view of the other prisoners.

“Fine,” Walker ground out, dipping his head lower. “Let’s go.”

The next twenty-four hours were a nightmare. More than once, Victor had to stop himself from killing Walker. Whom, he had decided, was completely around the bend. He kept mumbling about a demon war and Sam Winchester. They drove to Robert Singer’s place and had been lucky to leave with everything intact. . .at least Walker. Singer had wanted to rip Gordon Walker a new one and Victor had been tempted to just let him.

Giving that up for bust they drove to Harvelle’s place called The Roadhouse. He dropped Walker off so he could walk in without showing up with Henriksen. Parking he walked in and found Walker against one wall, at least three guns pointed in his direction. It didn’t even make him pause. Walking up to the bar he asked for a beer. Sitting on a stool he looked over at where Walker was talking up a blue streak. The one’s pointing the guns at him nodded and slowly lowered them.

He was surprised to have someone sneak up behind him. “Fed,” a woman’s voice said somewhat close to his ear. It wasn’t an accusation, or question, she was just stating fact. “If Walker convinces those guys to hunt the Winchesters, I will string you up by your intestines and let you watch as the crows come and tear at your guts.”

Victor was impressed. She wasn’t threatening him just stating a fact. “I can’t control what he does, Mrs. Harvelle.” He really didn’t have to guess who was talking to him but what he couldn’t understand was how the Winchesters had such a loyal set of friends for people who seemed the epitome of serial killers and grave defilers.

“Well if you don’t want to see your insides on your outside you had better put a muzzle on him.” Her voice was low and rough and for a moment made Victor think of very bad things.

“I’m looking for the Winchesters, if you can tell me where they are. . .I’ll shut him up.”

“Are you threatening me, fed?” She spat out.

“No, I am just saying what I would be willing to do to get him out of here,” Victor said taking a drink of his beer appearing unconcerned.

“What do you want with them?”

“Truth, at first I was just going to arrest them but my unfortunate companion has got a lot of ideas about Sam that makes me want to talk to them. Just talk.”

“You’ll never get near them as long as he’s with you,” she said.

“That’s my problem. Can you tell me where they are?” he asked.

“I can tell you where they were. . .you’ll have to figure it out from there.”

“Fine,” Victor was trying not to get short tempered with the woman he still couldn’t see.

She slid a piece of paper beside him on the bar. “Now get your idiot and leave.”

“Thank. . .”

“Don’t even go there. . .just get the fuck out of here.”

Henriksen turned and saw an imposing woman standing in a doorway a few feet from him; he hadn’t even heard her move. Giving her a small nod of respect he called Walker and told him they were leaving. Gordon gave him a look but Victor just raised his eyebrow. He added seeing a grown man pout to his list of things he didn’t want to see again.

After calling headquarters, Victor hit the road again with Walker. The more he was around Walker the itchier his trigger finger got. The guy got on his nerves so much he was starting to like Sam Winchester just to spite him.

Forty hours later, Walker was urging him to pick a hotel room. “I don’t want you to kill us, falling asleep.”

“I’ve done more on less,” Victor snapped, sleep deprivation never did agree with him.

“Your lead is already cold. . .it’s not going to get colder if you pull over and sleep for a while.” Gordon actually made sense for once.

He had made sure that Gordon thought he knew were Sam Winchester was or at least he was his best chance of finding out. The man was so obsessed that Victor knew that he wouldn’t leave. He still thought it prudent to get the cuffs out and with a chain attached Walker to himself before crashing on one of the beds. Waking a few hours later he saw that Walker was watching television. Mindless pap, he thought before undoing the chain that connected them.

After using the bathroom, Victor walked out into the room. Gordon was sitting closer to the TV taking notes. “What is it?” Victor asked.

“Vampires,” Walker said and Victor would have sworn he was dead serious.

“What?” He wondered if Walker had finally gone completely around the bend.

“Look, I want Sam Winchester dead more than just about anything in the world but I _need_ to take care of this. I am good at it.” Victor was impressed he almost sounded sane.

“What would you do. . .to take care of the problem?” Victor sat, interested in just how delusional his traveling companion was.

“Well, we’d need knives, machetes if possible. They can only be killed by beheading. They are fast so if we had some dead man’s blood to hit them with, it’d slow them down so we could kill them. Then we stake out their lair and while sunshine doesn’t kill ‘em it’ll slow ‘em down some more. We need to pick off the entire lair before dark.”

Victor stared at Walker who was being completely serious. “So your solution is to kill a bunch of people.”

Walker shook his head. “Not people, Vampires. They’re not human, not anymore.” Walker took a deep breath and seemed to steel himself. “I’m not leaving with this group here. I can’t.”

“You can if I say you can,” Victor snapped at him.

“They killed my family, my baby sister was taken, turned. I had to. . .I had to. . . take care of her. They are evil. I can’t just leave this now that I know it’s here.” Victor found it interesting that Walker actually seemed more sane when talking about vampires. . .how’s that for fucked up?

“Let me get this straight, you are admitting to killing your sister?”

“NO!” Walker yelled and stood up, Victor followed. “I killed the monster that she was turned into, she was no longer my sister. She died the night they took her.”

Victor just filed the things Walker said into his head. He seemed very upset and restless. Watching as Walker paced in front of him. “We have to find the Winchesters,” Victor said.

“I can’t just. . .you have no idea the damage a pack can do.”

“We’re leaving.” Victor had had enough. The next thing he remembered he was on his bed with someone pounding on the door. Looking around for his prisoner he cursed when he saw he was gone.

“What?” he snapped as he pulled the door open. The sunlight streaming in from the outside hurt his head.

“If you’re staying another night you need to pay now,” the old man who had checked them in said.

What the fuck time was it? He looked at his watch, two. Fuck he’d been unconscious for more than 18 hours. “Fine,” he said and found his wallet was just where he’d left it, at least Walker hadn’t taken that. He grabbed some cash, giving it to the man. Shutting the door, he stopped finally noticing the car that was parked outside. Impala, black, sleek, holy fuck the Winchesters were here.

“Hold on,” he said flashing his badge at the innkeeper. “When did that car get here? Were their two men? What room are they in?”

The man looked put out. Holding up his hand he started counting off on his fingers as he answered his questions. “Last night. Yes. Right next to you. Now if that is all?”

Victor nodded absentmindedly. Sam and Dean Winchester, so close he could taste them. He should call for back up: SWAT team, DEA, Homeland Security, someone. Instead cursing himself for a fool, he went and knocked on the door.

“’bout damn time the pizza got here,” Dean Winchester said and stood there with his mouth hanging open. Victor though it almost comical.

“Can I come in?”

“Dean, who is. . .oh,” Sam Winchester said.

“Looking good Sam, can I come in?”

“Of course,” Sam said pulling Dean back, giving him enough room to enter.

“Of course?” Victor heard Dean hiss at Sam.

“Look,” he said he wasn’t going to beat around the bush. “I think I need your help.”

Sam took one of the two seats at the table motioning him to take the other. Victor sat. “What can we do for you, Agent Henriksen?” Sam said without looking at Dean whom Victor could see quite clearly was making faces at him.

Victor pushed a paper across the table to him. It was Walker’s notes. “Tell me this is what you are here for. Not another grave desecration or other weird thing.”

Sam read the notes his eyebrows rising and passed them to Dean without a word. After Dean was done he put the papers back in front of Victor. “Who’s notes are those?”

Victor had to admit he was impressed they were playing their hands very close to their chest. Time to up the ante he guessed. “Gordon Walker,” Victor said. He wasn’t prepared for Dean’s reaction.

Dean had him up against the wall his arm across Victor’s throat. “You let that bastard out of prison? What kind of idiot are you? He wants to kill Sam.”

“Dean,” Sam was pulling at his brother. “Come on Dean back off,” Sam said. There was a knock at the door. Sam pushed Dean in the direction of the door saying something about pizza.

“Trust me,” Victor said putting a hand up to his throat, “I know. But right now, he’s left me to go hunt what he believes to be vampires. He’s under my watch and if he kills someone. . .well I’m fucked five ways from Friday.”

Dean Winchester smirked at him as he sat the pizza on the table. “Or, I could just call my buddies down at the station, I’m sure they would be glad to help me apprehend two vicious criminals.” Victor didn’t let his satisfaction show when Dean’s smirk dropped from his face.

“Why aren’t you?” Sam asked.

“There is something wrong with the picture I’ve got of you. Your profiles say you should be one way and yet you act completely different than what I expect.” Victor shrugged. That was the most they would get out of him.

Sam looked out the window. “It’s near sunset. Can’t be today.”

“What?” Dean asked.

“Look, he’s right we’re here because of rumors of a pack in the area. If Walker’s gone in he might have taken care of them or he might have been killed or even turned but we cannot do anything tonight. Tomorrow morning, early,” Sam told Dean and Victor.

“Fine, tomorrow then,” Victor said, heading for the door.

“No,” Dean said reluctantly almost as if the words were being forced from his mouth. Victor turned. Sam was glaring at Dean. “If you stay it’ll be safer.”

“Because of vampires?”

“Yes,” Sam said quietly.

“Fine, can I get my stuff?” Victor was actually pleased he didn’t need to find a way to keep the boys in sight.

“Sure,” Sam told him.

He could hear Sam and Dean arguing before he shut the door behind him. He cleaned out his room and took it all next door. Knocking he heard an argument stop just before the door opened.

Grabbing a piece of pizza as Dean questioned him.

“What the hell happened to ‘do everything by the book’ Henriksen?” Dean’s tone could have used help but he figured he would tell them something.

“You try spending twenty four hours with Gordon Walker. The man doesn’t shut up. Sam Winchester this and Sam Winchester that fuck you’d think you were the antichrist or something.” Victor looked over at where Sam sprawled at the table.

“So how can _we_ help you?” Dean said and sat in the only other chair in the room.

Victor sat on the end of one of the beds. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to find Walker, I don’t know how to hunt anything if that’s what you are really doing.” He gave a defeated sigh.

“We’ll get them, and Walker in the morning. Sam and me have a pretty good idea of exactly where their nest is. Can you use a knife?”

“To decapitate someone, I don’t know. What else works on them?” Victor asked.

Sam looked uncomfortable. “Dead man’s blood,” he finally said.

“Is that some kind of herb?”

“No,” Dean said. “It is the blood of a dead man. Because the vamps are already dead it somehow reminds their body’s of it. . .slows them down for a bit.”

Victor nodded, it wasn’t like he could get into any more trouble than he already was in. That explained the blood found in Walker’s car and reminded him of what Walker had listed off the night before. “And you get this where?”

“We don’t kill them,” Sam snapped. “Morgues are handy for a restock usually.”

“Restock? You fight these things often? How does the blood affect them? I mean, how do you get it to affect them?”

“Not often, because of people like Walker there really aren’t that many left. But this is the third group we’ve had to deal with. Better to be prepared.” Sam sat forward talking earnestly and Victor wanted nothing more than to believe him. “The blood needs to get into their bloodstream. Bolts, arrows are the standard way.”

“Not bullets?”

It was Dean that shook his head. “We tried, not enough blood.”

“Okay,” Victor said.

“Early day tomorrow, let’s get some sleep.”

Victor looked at the beds and at the men. Dean grabbed a pillow and blanket off of one bed and shoved them at him. “Floor.”

He’d slept on worse. He made a kind of nest and taking off his jacked just sort of rolled into bed. Watching as Sam put salt around the doors and windows. “Does that work?”

Sam jerked in surprise, like he’d forgotten Victor was there. “Most of the time. Spirits have a tough time with salt.”

“Didn’t think old wives tales like that worked,” Victor said remembering his gran tossing salt over her shoulder to keep the devil away.

“Most old wives tales have some basis in fact. Most,” Sam spoke as Victor opened his mouth. “Night Agent Henriksen,” Sam said as he crawled into bed, turning the light off.

“Yeah sweet dreams,” Dean said.

Victor woke in the morning, more than half expecting the Winchesters to be gone. It’s probably what he would have done in their case. However, they were still there. Victor watched as they got ready to go after whatever they were. Sam would reach for something and Dean would be handing it to him. Dean would finish sharpening a knife and Sam would already have a sheath ready for it. It was all unspoken with a couple grunts and small smiles. If Victor thought about it he might have been jealous because he had never had that kind of rapport with anyone.

Discussing a plan, with lots of contingencies because they had no idea what Walker had been up to. They set out, Victor riding in the back seat holding a crossbow with arrows to dip into the blood. It was weird, he thought, it was very unreal, almost like a dream. They got to where Dean said the vampires were at and everyone examined the building. It was an old warehouse with the windows blackened.

It irked him that the Winchesters seemed to consider him a liability. Sam pointed out that they may have to kill some vampires and they weren’t sure if he could do it. He wanted to tell them he’d killed before but the truth was he hadn’t. Not yet anyway. Dean pointed to a car half hidden in the trees. Victor nodded, it was his. Gordon was here, dead or alive.

They worked out a rough plan that had Victor as backup with the crossbow. He conceded that he wasn’t as hardcore as he’d like to be. Picking up the crossbow and bolts after dipping them all in the blood, he wondered why he wasn’t more squeamish about it.

Victor entered the warehouse last, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. After a bit he could make out Sam and Dean walking among sleeping people. Evaluating quickly he determined there were seven that he could see and then Dean got to a cage he could see opposite the door.

Hearing Dean murmur and then the unmistakable sound of Walker laughing, Victor flinched looking back at the sleepers. No one stirred. He let out a barely controlled sigh of relief. Dean managed to get the cage open Victor saw. Walker and Dean had a discussion and from the look of the thing it was only the fact that they might wake someone kept them from brawling.

They made their way quietly over to him, Dean motioning to Sam and they all walked back outside. Walker blinked in the bright light. Moving far from the warehouse they stopped by Victor’s car before anyone said anything.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Victor said quietly to Walker.

“Couldn’t handle your own shit you had to get Winchesters,” the name said like a curse, “to do your dirty work?”

“You are the stupid fuck who knocked me out. And you apparently are the stupid fuck who got captured.”

Walker made a face.

“We have to clean them out,” Walker said talking to Sam and Dean.

Dean snorted. “They got your scent not mine. They get your blood?” Dean reached out to pull Walker’s head over.

“Fuck off,” Walker said pushing Dean’s hand away. “I don’t like you, I really don’t like your brother, but this is something that needs to be taken care of and you know it. I’m willing to call a truce as long as we do this,” Walker held his hand out.

Victor watched as Dean looked at Sam who gave a small nod. “Fine,” he said shaking Walker’s hand.

“What’s your plan?”

“We can’t burn them out, a fire that big would have the locals on the phone before we could do anything.”

Victor had an idea but he wanted everyone else to speak first so he waited. After discussions of high ground and assassinations, Victor mentioned his idea.

Sam stared at him, mouth open.

“What? Stupid idea?”

Sam shook his head. “Brilliant, it might just work.”

“But?”

“I don’t know if we have enough blood.”

Victor thought about it. He could run into town, acquisition some ‘evidence’ from a morgue and be back in a couple of hours. That would put them around one in the afternoon to try and do this thing.

“You,” he said to Walker, “with me.” Getting into the car, Victor fished around under the seat for the spare key. He wasn’t about to leave Walker with Sam and Dean Winchester, someone would end up dead and everyone else hurt. This was important enough to have him looking out what was best for everyone.

Hour and a half later he pulled back into the same spot. Sam and Dean rose from the ground and walked over. “You sure about this? It won’t protect you all that much.”

Victor nodded. Twenty minutes and they were all ready. Victor told them that he would need proof that these things were really what these guys said they were, before setting his part of the plan in motion.

Sam kicked in the door. Victor slowly moved forward. Then he saw someone running impossibly fast and got a clear view of a mouth full of teeth, but no teeth that he had ever seen before. He stomped down on the accelerator and Sam stepped out of the way as he sped past in the rental car that was covered in dead man’s blood. Victor noticed that Dean and Walker were in place and fighting. Sam hesitated standing in front of a young woman who was spitting at him and trying to bite him. Gordon came up and quickly beheaded her. Victor watched the look of disgust that rolled over Sam’s face as he watched Gordon walk away. Noting that Sam didn’t pause or hesitate when a man attacked him next.

It was moments but it seemed like forever until they were all dead.

There was a quiet that Victor could only ever describe as the stillness of death. It was broken by Gordon stumbling up, covered in blood.

“Done, truce over,” he said and then launched himself at Sam. Seeing a mouth full of very sharp teeth coming at Sam Victor cursed. He and Sam were fast, Victor with his gun, disintegrating rounds filled with dead man’s blood that had been Sam’s idea, and Sam with his knife stabbing Walker in the stomach. The man paused to scream and Dean was there, machete in hand. Decapitating Walker with a couple of swings.

“Did you know?” Victor asked Sam as the bodies around them started a seriously fast version of decay, even Walker who’d been human recently. Silently Victor was relieved because he had no idea how he was going to explain this to headquarters.

“I suspected,” Sam said.

“I knew,” Dean said wiping his blade clean before putting it in its sheath.

“Right,” Sam said and Victor decided he wanted to stay out of their argument. Walking around his car he checked out the damage. It wasn’t too bad. He still had no idea how he was going to explain it.

“We can get that fixed, if you’re in no hurry to get back,” Dean offered.

Victor looked at him to see if he was serious. Deciding that Dean was, Victor smiled. “Sure, where?”

“Place in South Dakota,” Sam said.

“Singer’s place?” Victor asked proud of the surprised look on their faces. “He might not welcome me.”

“He will if we’re with you,” Dean said. “Let’s get cleaned up and out of here.”

Victor agreed, he wanted to actually talk to Bobby Singer, about hunting things, he wanted to be useful in a way he wasn’t in his job. But first he had a report to put in, about how he had seen the Winchesters burn up in a warehouse fire. He dropped a match on a chemical laden tarp that he had laid inside the place. He would say they started it themselves, trying to create a distraction but had misjudged how the fire would spread.

Watching as the fire licked at what remained of the bones of Gordon Walker, there should be something left for the FBI to say that someone human had been killed here and with Victor’s statement Sam and Dean Winchester would be dead. Walker would give him the reason to quit. . .losing a prisoner to the fire, too. Then he could give his notice and be back at Singers, ready and willing to learn.

And that was what he did.


End file.
